VEF Blog

BernardNowman le 22-06-2024 à 16:33:03
joliii poeme mon amour (l)

gladys-lemire le 22-06-2024 à 16:15:49
Poème



In Paris, in summer, the evenings are stifling.

And me, a black walker whom the children avoid,

Who flees joy and wanders many leagues,

On those days, I go to the sad suburbs.

I take some alley where grass grows

And of which a rotating wall is the only horizon.

I like these deserted places where the foot rings,

Where I'm almost sure I won't meet anyone.


Above the enclosures the lime trees smell good;

And on the fresh plaster are written in charcoal

The intertwined names of Victoire and Eugène,

Popular and naive monument, which does not bother

Not at all the odious sketch next door

Traced clumsily, with a cheeky charcoal,

Passing after them, pre-pubescent debauchery.


And, when the first street lamp lights up in the distance,

I reach the main street, where I can still see

Shopkeepers chilling on the sidewalk,

While, to show off her plump shapes a little,

Their daughter plays grace with her so-called.

BernardNowman le 22-06-2024 à 16:14:00
magnifique article mon amour (l)

je t'aimeeeeeeeee (l) ma ptite femme d'amour (l) à moi